


Close Calls | Dean Winchester/Reader

by shyangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Accidents, Established Relationship, F/M, Female pronouns, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyangel/pseuds/shyangel
Summary: As Dean holds you in his arms, on the brink of death, things are finally put into perspective.





	Close Calls | Dean Winchester/Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Based on request: Imagine riding in the Impala after a hunt and Dean’s mad at you because you nearly got killed. Suddenly, the impala gets hit by a big truck(like the end of season one or two(I can’t remember which)) and Dean is injured but alive. He crawls and finds the reader, on the brink of death. You can decide whether the ending is angsty or fluffy

“Dean…” you sighed as the two of you walked back to the Impala, adrenaline still pumping after a close call with a vampire nest. Dean’s tense stance didn’t relax at your voice - your words couldn’t soothe him, not right now. He was positively seething.

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t answer. He got in the car and slammed the door behind him.

You slid into the passenger seat. “Dean,” you tried again. He stared tersely ahead, resolutely ignoring you. Huffing a sigh of irritation, you conceded that if he didn’t want to talk to you, then that wouldn’t stop you from talking to him.

“I know you’re mad I didn’t stick to the plan, but -”

He jerked onto the freeway, his foot heavy on the gas as he flew along the road. It twisted like a slick, black snake through the stretching fields, gleaming with the recent rain. Dean shot you a furious look.

“This isn’t about the goddamn plan, Y/N!” he raged. “You could’ve died! I almost lost you, and-” He cut off sharply, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel and shaking his head as he stared straight forwards, avoiding eye contact. He swallowed, and maybe it was the muted glow of the headlights bouncing back into the car, but you could’ve sworn his eyes were glistening.

You were silent for a moment, keeping your eyes on the road as you gave your boyfriend a moment to collect himself. “I was trying to protect you - that vamp had its sights on you, and-”

“Dammit, Y/N! I don’t care!!” he declared in outrage. “You don’t- you don’t put yourself in danger for me, for Christ’s sake! You worry about yourself, dammit!”

It was your turn to grow angry. “As if you wouldn’t do the same for me!” you countered. Dean’s knuckles were white as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

“This is different -” he tried, but you cut him off in frustration.

“How, Dean? You’re allowed to risk your life for me, but I can’t do the same?” you challenged, and Dean nodded.

“Right!” he affirmed furiously. You all but growled at his reply.

“You’re being a hypocrite!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms and turning to stare out the window. “We’ll talk about this at home,” you muttered, leaning forward to turn up the music.

“Damn right we will,” Dean huffed.

“Yeah, and Sam can tell you what an idiot you’re bei-” You cut yourself off as you saw the blinding headlights, heard the deafening blast of the truck’s horn, the piercing squeal of brakes desperately trying to find purchase on the wet road. “Dean!” you had time to shout. You saw the panic flash in his eyes, saw his futile attempt to swerve, his vain attempts to save you from the truck slamming into your door.

You heard the crunch and scrape of metal on metal, the crystalline shatter of glass, felt the impact slamming into your lungs, and-

Nothing.

—

When Dean came to, his first thought wasn’t of the blood dripping from his temple, nor the ache of his ribs, which were surely fractured, if not broken. His first thought wasn’t even of the Impala, which was utterly totalled and crushed beneath the front of the truck. No, his first thought was of you, and as he frantically looked over to you and saw your broken, bleeding and unconscious frame, he felt a sheer fear unlike any he’d ever felt.

“Y/N,” he managed to choke, though his hoarse voice carried no farther than a whisper. “Y/N!” he repeated, struggling to crawl over to you. He fumbled with his seatbelt, which was digging into his shoulder and chest hard enough to draw blood. Once he was free of it, he was next to you immediately, unstrapping you and running his hands over the cuts the belt had etched into your neck and collarbones. Your hair was sprinkled with shards of glass, your scalp sticky with blood.

“Y/N,” he whispered tearfully, shaking you. “Y/N! Wake up!” he pleaded, holding two fingers to your neck. Your pulse was weak, but present. He gasped a sigh of relief, trying to pull you into his arms but freezing as he saw you were half trapped between the seat and the caved in door. He gulped, patting his pockets until he felt his phone, which he was quick to tug out.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There was - there was a crash, uh - a truck and-” He rattled off your location.

“Yes, we’re aware of that situation. Sit tight, emergency services are on their way. What’s your name?”

“Dean,” he murmured absently, brushing the hair out of your face with shaking hands.

“Are you hurt, Dean?”

“I- I don’t - she’s unconscious, what do I do?” he demanded frantically. There was a pause.

“Can you get out of the car, Dean?”

“I- yeah, but- her door’s caved in- I can’t- I can’t move her-”

“Dean, I need you to leave the car - it might not be safe.”

“But- but I can’t move her!” he protested weakly.

“The ambulance is almost there - they can help her, Dean. I need you to get out of the car.”

“I’m not leaving her!” he roared, but his anger was quick to fade to a tearful whimper. “I-I can’t…”

Sirens wailed in the distance, lighting up the night sky with flashes of red and blue, casting an eerie sheen over the stars. Y/N remained disturbingly silent.

Dean hung up.

—

The overwhelming scent of disinfectant pervaded your senses as you slowly eased into consciousness. You felt like you’d been hit by a tru- oh, right. You had.

The room was too white, too bright, the beeping of the monitor beside you too loud. Your ribs were screaming in agony, your skin stung with scrapes, and you barely had the strength to keep your eyes open. Only one thing compelled you to stay awake.

You twisted around, biting your lip to hold in groans of discomfort, eyes raking the room in search of Dean. As you turned, you were engulfed in a wave of relief to see him slumped in the chair next to the hospital bed, head lolling back and mouth slightly agape as he snored. Your lips curled in amusement, your eyes softening as you saw his hand, outstretched and resting by your side, looking empty without your fingers intertwined.

As you rested your hand on his, he jolted awake, scanning you urgently. His expression betrayed a hint of disbelief as he stared at you like you were the most precious thing to ever have graced the earth.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, more to himself than anything else. “You’re okay.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand lightly. He had medical tape pulling together a cut on his forehead, and he nursed his left side as he moved. You hated seeing him in pain, but mostly you hated that he’d had worse before.

“You- they said you had internal bleeding, they weren’t sure if… doesn’t matter. You’re awake. How do you feel?” he asked, words running into each other as he stammered anxiously.

“Not great, not gonna lie,” you admitted. “But I’m okay.”

Dean swallowed, nodding to himself. “God, Y/N, if you’d… if you hadn’t made it, and the last time we talked was a fight, I don’t…”

“Hey,” you told him gently, reaching out and tilting his chin up. His eyes met yours, and you saw they were raw and red from crying. Your heart swelled in pity. “We don’t need to think about that. I’m here, okay? And I love you.”

Dean exhaled shakily, gathering himself enough to offer a hesitant smile.

“Yeah. You too,” he said gruffly, and you laughed, fisting your hand in his shirt and pulling him close enough to kiss. His lips were chapped and dry on yours as he moved to rest his hand on your cheek, calloused fingertips rough on the smooth skin of your face. He tasted of coffee, and vaguely of salt, and his unshaved stubble bit into the tender skin around your mouth. You didn’t mind - kissing Dean Winchester was possibly your favourite activity, second only to being wrapped in his arms and held tight against his chest.

You smiled into the kiss, and Dean chuckled into your mouth before pulling away. His eyes were glazed with wonder as he ran his thumb delicately over your lower lip, gaze locked on yours as he stared at you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

He opened his mouth, perhaps to speak those very words, only to be interrupted by a knocking on the door that revealed Sam, holding two coffees and shadowed by Castiel.

“You’re awake!” Sam exclaimed in relief, setting the coffees aside as he rushed forward to give you a careful hug. You smiled at his affection, your hand still locked in Dean’s. Cas bowed his head shamefully as he approached.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you,” he said simply. “But I am glad that you seem to be recovering.”

Cas’ sorrow tugged at your heartstrings. “It’s not your fault, Cas. Thank you for being here.”

He gave you a nod and a tentative smile, which you readily returned. As the two newcomers took seats beside you, Dean’s eyes met yours, and he didn’t need to say whatever it was he’d been going to. The love and tenderness he held in his eyes said more than his words ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> btw this is set during the time Cas doesn’t have his grace, so that’s why he couldn’t heal them
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos if you enjoyed! :)  
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